


Trillium

by sallysorrell



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Mind Meld, OT3, Vulcan, vulcan makeout session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallysorrell/pseuds/sallysorrell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The doctor was unable to argue; his focus was divided evenly between Jim’s hands, completely conscious of every vein and vessel they hovered over.  In his mind, he tried to recite them, to keep his expression composed.  Despite his best attempts, Spock read the trembling desperation in his deep eyes and shallow breaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trillium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jabbierwocky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabbierwocky/gifts).



Kirk found sleep in only one variety: blue.

The sterile lights in Sickbay.  McCoy’s eyes, refusing to shut first.  Spock’s uniform, inevitably blurred in the doorway.

The reassuring eyes met him first, as he rolled over and regained his focus.  Pressed against the bed, the doctor kept watch.

“Go back to sleep, Jim.”

“You mean I’m not _dreaming_?”

“Shut up.”

He dropped Kirk’s hand and slid backward.  Barely.

Kirk could still reach him, tearing one arm free of the blanket.  He curled his thumb over the doctor’s hipbone, tucking it beneath the fabric of his uniform.

“Really,” posed McCoy, as Jim tugged him closer, “You’re gonna do that?”

“Helps me sleep,” grinned the captain.  McCoy shrugged, now bound to the ridiculous remedy.

The door slid open, and Spock joined them in the dim room.  Kirk focused on his uniform, as it collected the light.

“Captain,” he said, staring at Kirk’s outstretched arm, “I had hoped to find you in your quarters.”

“What can I do for you, Spock?”

McCoy rolled his eyes and took a determined step backward.  Kirk’s arm dangled over the side of the bed.

“I am merely checking your progress, as I wish for you to resume command as soon as medically possible.”

Doctor McCoy folded his arms, jealous and skeptical.

“You seem like the sort to enjoy an upgrade, Mister Spock, even if it’s only temporary.”

“I find no pleasure in command,” recited the Vulcan.

“No,” Kirk said, standing and approaching his officers, “You wouldn’t.  Now, what is it you came down here for?”

“To ensure your good health, Captain.”

McCoy turned.  Spock could only stare at the wrinkled patch of his shirt, which formerly hid Kirk’s hand.

“He’d be feeling better if he could _get some sleep_.”

“Are you suggesting I leave, Doctor?”

“Oh no, Mister Spock, that was an invitation.”

“Bones,” Jim begged, reaching for his hands, “ _Relax_.”

The doctor was unable to argue; his focus was divided evenly between Jim’s hands, completely conscious of every vein and vessel they hovered over.  In his mind, he tried to recite them, to keep his expression composed.  Despite his best attempts, Spock read the trembling desperation in his deep eyes and shallow breaths.

The silence became an animal, caged between them.  It threw itself wildly at each one, but could not escape.  The Vulcan would not explain  
his intended method, in order to save a lecture from the doctor.  Instead, he would copy a uniquely human behavior: he would just _do_ it.  The silence would bite him, but he would shake it off.  _Human_.

Spock pressed his hand against Jim’s face, settling his fingers delicately beneath the other man’s eye.   Doctor McCoy was unsure of how to interfere, but immediately rushed forward.  Spock’s other hand was drawn to the doctor’s face, meeting more resistance than Jim ever offered.  He had almost forgotten human stubbornness, until McCoy’s mind shouted it back at him.

The feeling he was reading encompassed more than the minds he took interlacing glances into.  The _mind_ was also a concept that fascinated him; it was only led by the brain, establishing the feelings which then coursed through eager blood, dancing nerves, and hiding hearts.  _Desperation_ , Spock guessed, recalling earlier lessons in humanity.

Focused feelings bled from both of his hands.  He watched as they traded emotions and memories without interference.  Spock did not mean to borrow any of the feelings; that unique desperation crept up past embarrassment, and settled at the top of the connection. 

Kirk learned, through practice, how to move during the melding process.  He set his hand over Spock’s, filling the gaps between his fingers.

_Captain,_ Spock presented this directly to Kirk’s thoughts, in a soothing whisper.

He did not receive an answer in the way he hoped; Kirk folded their fingers together, brushing his nails against Spock’s knuckles.

This weakened the connection, as Spock had to devote more attention to maintaining his stoicism.  As he expected, McCoy was the one to sever it, falling backward and gasping.

Spock’s hand remained suspended in the air, letting the neglected memories drip from it.  McCoy stared.

“Do you _enjoy_ doing that to people, Mister Spock?” he demanded, between coughs.

The words waited at Spock’s lips for too long, resulting in an unconvincing answer:

“I enjoy nothing, Doctor.”

The captain smirked, and immediately dropped Spock’s hand.  He blinked, as the others called him their own playful variations of ‘liar.’

Even throughout the mind-meld, Kirk did not drop Doctor McCoy’s hand.  Spock admired this, as it disproved the concept of _desperation_ he saw earlier.  Though the two were not mutually exclusive, what he saw was _devotion_.

The scientist’s unoccupied hand remained in the air, tempting the doctor, after he and Kirk exchanged a silent conversation.  While humans talked more than necessary, Spock believed, they were completely capable of nonverbal communication.  He would make an interesting study of it.  Immediately.

Sharply, McCoy took it.  Now, the three of them shared a physical bond, which the majority preferred to the mental one. 

_That was one thing I never understood about Vulcan physiology_ , McCoy’s mind fought through their contact, _How does that work, having two hands?_

Spock turned his eyes to the captain, who offered:

_As you’d expect._

He did not expect the mental connection to continue, and scolded himself for miscalculation.  Jim sensed this and comforted him, aligning their fingers exactly.  Their movements were simultaneous and organic, shared with Jim’s smile.

The doctor’s approach was different, and irritatingly founded in logic.  Spock looked down at his wrist, where McCoy composed a response to his pulse.  He wanted to shut his eyes, but was overwhelmed by incoming information, and tried to allot some to every available sense. His hands could not process all of it.

Kirk still did not drop McCoy’s hand; he collected Spock’s along with it. 

Again, the connection was broken.  This time, by Spock.  He stumbled limply to the bed and leaned against it.  It was McCoy who reached for his shoulder, with _devotion_ seeping from his hand.

“Are you alright, Spock?” he asked, in measured concern.

He found Jim’s arm, pressed around his waist.

“Yes, Doctor,” he recited, “Quite.”

They helped him to the bed, where he remained unblinking.  Until the other two beds in the room were shoved against either side.  Like a flower, born from a single seed, they would wither if a petal was torn away.  They settled between each other’s nervous breaths, crackling quietly.

Sleep would only be found if they were all together.  And they found it in blue.

The light, dying out like a star above them.

McCoy’s eyes, widening as the room darkened.

The uniforms Kirk found himself nestled between.  Cold, shimmering fabric covering warm, familiar skin. 

He twisted one arm beneath each, and slept.

_You mean to say you didn’t enjoy that, Spock?_

Their thoughts were connected and indistinguishable.  For the Vulcan, this would be permanent.

_…It is certain I will never forget it_.

_You sure say that a lot._

_Must be true._

  


End file.
